


Count on Me

by athena_crikey



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Aftermath, Episode tie-in, Gen, Phone Call, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 13:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13482858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: Steve never makes pointless phone calls. Except when he does. Post The Bomber and Mrs Moroney.





	Count on Me

It’s late. So late it’s early, the night sky outside his balcony already tinged in the east with the grey that precedes blue. Danny knows all the shades of Hawaiian nights, from the swirling navy that follows dusk to the velvet blackness of midnight to the delicate shell pink right before dawn. He’s sat through more than he can remember – beach parties in the old days with his surfing buddies down by the water, the night air full of laughter and their clothes suffused in smoke from the luau pit, staying up until it was light and then staggering home to wash off the sand and salt and sleep off the cheap beer. More recently it’s either been stakeouts or vigils; they’re both ways of being alone in a group, one while praying for action, the other to take it back. 

It’s a vigil tonight, and he’s alone. Really alone, his apartment so silent around him it feels almost like it’s seeping the sound from the world, like ice to the skin. And it’s – he doesn’t have words for what it is. It’s being buried alive in a tiny box, it’s hammering on the door of a sound-proof vault, it’s sinking to the bottom of the ocean with weights around his ankles while the water presses in eagerly. 

There’s a man in the morgue tonight because of him. Because he put his kid brother there two years ago. And there’s a woman going home to a house that will never ring with her sons’ voices, because of him. 

In the predawn silence his apartment feels like that house, and his heart is heavy with her pain. And suddenly, it’s too much. Too much weight, too much pain, too much silence. 

Danny picks up the phone, fingers dialing a number without thought. If he had thought, he would know that Steve would be awake anyway – that he’s still 4 hours ahead of Hawaiian time, that he’s got a lot of work to catch up on, that he doesn’t sleep the night after fatalities. But truthfully, he’s not thinking of that, or anything else. All Danny knows is that he needs to hear another voice to fill the silence that’s choking him. 

The soft ringing of the phone cuts out mid-ring. “McGarrett.”

Danny opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. Says, softly, “Steve?”

“Hey, Danno.” Steve sounds tired, but not surprised. And not impatient. 

Steve McGarrett doesn’t do pointless phone calls. Danny has never heard him just have a conversation on the phone. They are simply a means to an end – a way for Steve to issue orders to men who aren’t in the room, or obtain information from distant sources. Anyone calling Steve long ago learned not to bother with idle chit-chat; they’ll simply be cut off. 

As far as he knows, Danny’s the only exception Steve’s made; he became it two years ago when he arrived home with a newly sewn up bullet hole in his gut. He doesn’t ask questions, and he doesn’t push it. As long as he doesn’t, he knows Steve’ll be there when he needs.

“You want me to come over?” asks Steve, after a pause. 

“No. No. I just –” he trails off, trapped between the impossibility of lying to Steve and the embarrassment of admitting the truth. He can feel himself sweating on the phone, feel his breath catching in his chest. He looks out the window for help, but there’s still just the faintest hint of dawn in the night sky. It will be hours until Honolulu wakes in earnest, hours more of silence.

“I met Rob ‘Akamu in Chicago,” says Steve, out of nowhere. Danny blinks, caught off-guard by the non-sequitur. “They’re thinking of training up some K9 teams over on Kaua’i, to help with searches. There was a good session at the conference on it – he promised he’d send over his notes when he got around to having them typed up. I told him we’re not in the market, but there’s no reason not to look into siphoning some support into HPD and borrow theirs – they’ve got enough trackers, but with cocaine still trickling onto the island a couple of drug dogs might come in real handy.”

Danny settles back in his chair, elbow on the table beside him and head resting against the phone receiver. Steve doesn’t ask his opinion, just keeps talking.

“They had a speaker down from Canada on patrolling in remote locations, but I figured even if we’ve got some pretty barren hills, at the end of the day you can cross all of ‘em from a ‘copter in under half an hour, so I sat in on crime prevention in tourist destinations instead. There’s some new rackets coming out of Vegas that our boys out here might be trying pretty soon; asked them to send me out some material…”

He goes on, talking about the sessions he attended, the acquaintances he met, the hotel room, the restaurant food. By the time he’s covered the whole of the conference, Danny’s head’s nodding.

“Danno?”

He blinks, taking a deep breath as he wakes up somewhat. “Yeah, Steve?” He hears the words slur in his mouth. 

“Go to bed. I’ll come by later on.” Steve’s smiling, just a little; Danny can hear it in his voice.

“But –”

“That wasn’t a request, Danno.” He’s still speaking softly, but there’s an undercurrent of steel in his tone now. And really, eyes blurred and thoughts woolly, Danny doesn’t want to disagree anyhow.

“Okay, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Danno.”

“’Night Steve. ‘N thanks.” Even if Steve asked him, he couldn’t say for what. For answering, for not hanging up, for talking for an hour about a conference he didn’t even really want to attend at four in the morning. 

“I’m always here for you, Danno.”

“Yeah.” He stands, tired muscles leaving him partially stooped, and glances out the window. The sky is shell pink, tinged with gold at the horizon. “I know it.”


End file.
